fall colours tour

Ten miles further north, I was surprised to spot a great blue heron striding across a small reservoir.

That reservoir has been there for as long as I can remember, but most years it was dry by this time. But now it receives surplus water from the nearby coalbed methane wells, a warm bonus for anything that needs water to survive.

Five miles further, I was surprised to find the road construction crews still at work.

Surprised to find them working on such a cool, damp day. Surprised to find the road still bare dirt, since last word was they were expecting to start paving on the 1st.

Best laid plans, and all that. Turns out the flagger has Boston terriers, what he called Boston bulldogs. They raise them, with both the bitch and a stud. Got a litter due soon, if anybody wants one.

Then it was up into the mountains, where I thought this icy rainbow glow around the high clouds might be the best colour I saw.

I was wrong.

This grove of aspens

is one of my favorites, standing in a rank like guards with their backs to the dark green pines. Unimpressive today, but maybe they'll be better later when the elk season opens (they weren't).

Around the bend and over one rise is Cottonwood Creek, where the cottonwoods made such a display last week. They're faded now, ghosts of their former glory.

But the aspens just downstream were in full regalia.

As were the golden cottonwoods further down in the canyon

and hidden up the pipeline draw.

There are actually two roads that take you through the center part of the mountain range. One that follows the creek bottom, and one which loops up and around into the foothills. Normally, I take one road up, and the other back on the return trip. But there would be no return trip today, as my barrel route would take me out the north side, for a long tour through the sagebrush country.

To see the colours above, and these

I took the loop road.

And then, naturally, I backtracked, and drove a mile of the canyon road, for these.

Then it was north again, headed to the crest of the range.

The north side, however, was a different world. The cold front had apparently stopped here a while, dropping more of its white bounty.

Just before the second barrel, we passed through the last aspen stand, and back out into the steppe.

But there was still colour out here, if you knew where to look. Peeking out of deep, narrow arroyos

and hiding behind sheltering rockpiles.

This is good deer country, and as evening approached, I had to watch for critters on the road. And those that briefly snagged their hooves bailing out over the fence.

I made a pit stop in the canyon. Trying not to focus on the bridge,

instead taking a few minutes to clamber over a few rocks to find a geocache.

Minutes later, we were back on route, still headed for barrel number three. Picking out a few colourful plants along the way.

All the more impressive because they were standing alone, the only bright glitter in a landscape of greys and tans.

I doubt any of these trees are old enough to have brightened the route for the Pony Express riders, just before they exchanged ponies on the other side of those rocks.

But their parent stock might have.

And finally, the colours left us, as the sun set.

Somewhere between barrels four and five.